


though miles may lie between us

by thespacenico



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Before Battle, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Knight Lance (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining, Prince Keith (Voltron), broganes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacenico/pseuds/thespacenico
Summary: He doesn’t know what to say, but from the way that Lance’s arms settle around his waist, cheek resting in his hair, he thinks he already understands. His hands rest against the small of his back, gently in a way that makes Keith melt into his chest with a sigh, eyes falling shut. For several moments neither of them speak, taking the opportunity to soak each other in and appreciate the closeness. Because as much as Keith hates to admit it, moments like these are never guaranteed. They never know when it might be their last together.Keith tightens his grip around Lance’s shoulders and swallows, blinking into Lance’s neck. “I wish I could come with you,” he says quietly.“I don’t,” Lance answers without missing a beat, and continues before Keith even has the chance to voice his protest. “I feel better knowing that you’re here. Where it’s safe.”I feel safe when I’m with you,Keith wants to say, but the most important words always refuse to come out of his mouth.
Relationships: Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 569





	though miles may lie between us

**Author's Note:**

> another prince keith/knight lance commission for [amara](https://www.twitter.com/astralakira) on twitter!
> 
> some context for this one: shiro is the knights' commander, and also the person in charge of keith's own training as a prince. they used to have a pretty formal relationship, but after a while shiro was able to get keith to open up to him outside of training (not as prince, simply as himself) and over time they came to consider each other like brothers :')
> 
> meanwhile, lance is a knight in training under shiro's command. he and keith have been best friends for a while now, and of course. mutual pining is involved but things are always big and scary and potentially messy when anything happens between a humble knight and a royal prince......... so they've been dancing around each other for a long time as well
> 
> anyway that's it!!! i hope you guys enjoy!!!

If Keith had to sum up everything he hated about being a prince in one word, it would probably be this: everything. 

It’s a well-known fact about him among those who work in the castle in some capacity, considering how poorly he hides it. He takes no issue with voicing his complaints when they arise to anyone who will hear them, no matter who or where they are. To some, his disdain for his own title as prince is more amusing than anything. Keith doesn’t appreciate that a single bit, but he supposes it’s better than pity.

The thing is, being a prince sounds easy—and it is, in a lot of ways. Keith would never deny the amount of privilege he has, fully aware of how lucky he is to have all that he does. Regardless, it’s days like these that remind him of his frustration with the concept of royalty as a whole and how unfair it all is. 

He tells Shiro as much. Shiro only laughs. 

“That seems like a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” 

“No,” Keith retorts from where he’s pacing across the floor of his private bedroom, hands folded behind his back. “I think I’m being perfectly reasonable.” 

“I think you’re missing the point.” 

_“I_ think that as Commander, you should just—sneak me out of the castle so I can go into battle with you.” 

Shiro laughs again, brightly enough that Keith feels the urge to squint when he looks his way. “Please, Prince, the queen would have my head.”

“Yeah, right,” Keith grumbles. “She loves you too much.” He spins around and falls backward onto his bed, bouncing a little upon impact and glaring up at the ceiling. Shiro remains at his post by the door, watching quietly. Keith tilts his chin up to peek at him. “You technically didn’t say no.” 

“No.” 

_“Shiro,”_ Keith groans, dropping his head back into the sheets. “What’s the point of training me if I never get to _do_ anything with it?” 

He can practically hear the sigh that Shiro suppresses from across the room. “Your training is meant to prepare you to act in your own self-defense—”

“Exactly!” Keith cries, throwing his hands in the air.

“— _only_ in any case that it is absolutely necessary,” Shiro finishes pointedly. “And sending you into battle is not, as previously stated, absolutely necessary.”

Keith lets his arms flop out on either side of him. “Why is it that I’m allowed to do practically anything I want except for the _one_ thing I actually want to do?” 

“Your Highness—”

“Call me that again and I’ll be sure to sneak beetle dung into your next meal.” 

“… Keith. You know perfectly well that your mother wishes that she could fight just as much as you do.”

Keith rolls his eyes, shifting onto his side so that he’s facing the wall, back to Shiro. He chews unhappily at his lower lip, brow creased as his fingers trace along the silk design woven into his bedsheets. Shiro says nothing more, as if he can sense the inner turmoil of Keith’s thoughts and is waiting for him to put them into words. “It’s just—” Keith starts, then hesitates. He huffs frustratedly, eyes falling shut. “Why should I be lounging around the castle doing nothing while the rest of the kingdom risks their lives to protect me?” 

The room falls silent, and Keith can’t say that he’s surprised. How does anyone even respond to that when they already know the answer? It’s ludicrous, it doesn’t make sense, and he hates it.

So if he really did have to choose one thing that he hated most about being a prince, it was this. Sitting around a pristine, luxurious castle where he has everything he could ever want right at his fingertips, while the people that he cares about, even people he’s never actually met are out there fighting to keep him safe, fighting for the very kingdom he’s supposedly going to rule one day. He feels so _useless._ How can he live with himself knowing how helpful his skills could be in battle yet being powerless to use them? 

He opens his eyes at the sound of Shiro’s careful, muted footsteps approaching him, and presses his mouth into a thin line as the bed dips where Shiro is slowly sitting down, keeping a respectful distance away from him. Keith twists his fingers into the sheets, but he swallows down all of the doubt and resentment and frustration that’s begging to be let out and lowers his gaze to the floor. 

“It’s not fair,” he finishes quietly.

For a long moment, Shiro still says nothing. Probably mentally preparing himself to drop his latest “nugget of wisdom”, as he likes to call them. All Keith can do is lie there and wait, staring dejectedly at the wall. Finally, Shiro shifts in place and leans back on one arm in an attempt to draw Keith’s attention.

“Look, everyone knows that you would sacrifice your own safety in a heartbeat if you had the chance to fight,” Shiro answers, voice gentle. “But on the off chance that something were to happen to you… the risk is too great.” 

Keith scowls at that, flinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing himself up to sit in an instant. “My life is no more valuable than any other person who’ll be on that battlefield today,” he snaps. “Yours included. Everyone gets to protect mine, so why don’t I get to protect theirs?”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow at that, utterly unfazed by Keith’s sudden outburst. Keith has no clue how he does it, but something about the look on his face makes him unusually self-conscious, cheeks burning. Shiro has always been able to read him well, _especially_ when he’s trying his hardest not to be read. 

“Keith,” he begins slowly, and Keith stubbornly averts his gaze. “What is this really about?” 

“If you’re implying that I don’t actually care about people outside the castle—” 

“No, of course not,” Shiro interrupts, raising one hand in a placating gesture. “I don’t mean to imply that at all. It just seems like there’s something else bothering you.” 

Keith crosses his arms over his chest, which in hindsight only serves to inadvertently confirm Shiro’s suspicion, but it’s too late to back out now. Shiro is already halfway to figuring it out anyway, eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he studies Keith and waits for his response. Keith bites the inside of his cheek to stifle a sigh, pulling his knees up and settling his arms across them. 

“I… I worry,” he admits, resting his chin atop his wrists. “Every time someone that I care about has to leave, I’m scared they won’t come back.”

Shiro hums softly. “I would say I’m touched, only I have a feeling that you’re not talking about me.” His words are teasing, but the tone of his voice is still sincere, and Keith says nothing to deny his statement. He cares about Shiro too, of course, but there’s… someone else in particular he has in mind right now. Shiro inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly, drumming his fingers against the mattress. “You know, sometimes it’s just as hard for the people who have to leave.” 

Keith casts his gaze in Shiro’s direction, frowning. “What?” 

Shiro shrugs, sitting forward and propping his arms against his knees. “I mean, leaving someone you care about is scary, especially when there’s no guarantee you’ll get to see them again.” He quirks a small, sympathetic smile. “It works both ways.” 

Keith considers him for a moment, wiggling his toes anxiously before looking away again. “I guess,” he mumbles.

A brief knock on the door cuts their conversation short, and they both look up as one of the castle guards enters the room. “Your Highness,” he says quickly, acknowledging Keith’s presence with a bow before Keith can open his mouth to stop him. Turns out he’s not here for Keith anyway, because he immediately straightens and turns toward Shiro. “Commander Shirogane, the queen wishes to see you before you call the knights.” 

“Of course,” Shiro answers, and Keith watches as he plants his hands on his knees and rises to his feet. He turns and bows, even though Keith has repeatedly insisted that he _not_ do just that. “Your Highness.”

For once, getting onto Shiro for calling him by his royal title when they’re practically brothers at this point is the last thing on his mind. Instead he unfolds himself and slips to the floor, quickly stepping forward into Shiro’s waiting arms. He takes a steadying breath and lets it out, willing himself not to think of this as a goodbye. “Stay safe, Shiro,” he murmurs.

Shiro pulls away but leaves a hand on his shoulder, smiling warmly, then turns to follow the guard out of the room. He makes it maybe four steps before Keith stops him again. “Wait!” His cheeks flush at the combined looks that Shiro and the castle guard shoot at him over their shoulders and he clears his throat awkwardly, scratching at his wrist. “Just—before you go, I—will you send for Lance?”

The corner of Shiro’s mouth twitches, but his expression remains carefully neutral. “He’s already on his way.” Then he winks, and even as his cheeks flush Keith can’t help but smile after he disappears into the hall, closing the door behind him.

For a short while he doesn’t move, staring somewhere beyond the door at a point in space that doesn’t really exist, lost in his thoughts. The battle taking place today is an important one, the victor of which will gain control over a large stretch of land that could give either side an incredible advantage in the war. This means that each kingdom is sending the best of the best to fight, none of who will back down easily. The battle is sure to be bloody, and there’s no doubt that a sickening number of good men and women will be lost—Keith shakes the thought out of his head before his mind can conjure any unwanted images, resuming his pacing across the floor.

He spends most of his time pacing nowadays, contemplating his role as prince, his frustration with the inability to serve the kingdom the way he knows he could, his… feelings, for a certain knight under Shiro’s command, and his best friend. To think that their friendship started when Lance quipped something a bit too loudly about Keith’s hair under his breath during a gathering, sending the entire room plunging into a horrified, awkward silence before Keith himself burst into laughter. After that it had been all teasing snipes and jabs every time their paths crossed, until Keith found himself asking the castle guards what they knew about him, if anything. 

Lance was one of the first and only people to treat Keith like a normal person, and one of the only people he feels comfortable being himself around. 

A quiet knock on the door breaks him out of his thoughts and he stops in his tracks, looking over just in time to see Lance poke his head into the room. Usually the sight of him is enough to make Keith smile, but this time he has to swallow down the overwhelming sense of unease that tries to climb up his throat when Lance steps inside, fully outfitted in his knight’s armor. The castle guard on duty outside closes the door behind him. Lance pays it no mind, gaze already fixed fully on Keith. 

He clears his throat after a brief pause, offering a curt, stiff bow. “Your Highness.” Keith says nothing as he straightens again, folding his hands behind his back. “You wanted to see me?” 

Keith bites his lip, his fingers twitching restlessly at his sides. He wonders if Lance even understands the irony of his own words, if he’s aware of the fact that Keith _always_ wants to see him, spends the rest of the day after an encounter with him wondering when they’ll get to see each other again. There’s a lot that he wants to say—too much, all of it rolling around in his stomach and crawling up his throat only to get stuck there until Keith is choking on it.

Lance stands across the room, posture as respectful and gracious as ever, but his gaze is gentle and searching. Waiting for Keith to open up, just like he always does. Keith curls his fingers against his palms as the first of the heat builds behind his eyes, and he starts forward before it can grow too much and spiral out of control. The last glimpse he gets before burying his face against Lance’s neck, arms wound tightly around him, is a relieved smile breaking across Lance’s face, as if he was waiting for exactly this. 

He doesn’t know what to say, but from the way that Lance’s arms settle around his waist, cheek resting in his hair, he thinks he already understands. His hands rest against the small of his back, gently in a way that makes Keith melt into his chest with a sigh, eyes falling shut. For several moments neither of them speak, taking the opportunity to soak each other in and appreciate the closeness. Because as much as Keith hates to admit it, moments like these are never guaranteed. They never know when it might be their last together. 

Keith tightens his grip around Lance’s shoulders and swallows, blinking into Lance’s neck. “I wish I could come with you,” he says quietly.

“I don’t,” Lance answers without missing a beat, and continues before Keith even has the chance to voice his protest. “I feel better knowing that you’re here. Where it’s safe.”

 _I feel safe when I’m with you,_ Keith wants to say, but the most important words always refuse to come out of his mouth.

He reluctantly pulls away when Lance shifts, hands lingering at his waist before falling away with a wistful smile. Keith’s remain on Lance’s shoulders, unwilling to let go completely. “Are you feeling okay?” 

Keith huffs incredulously, one corner of his mouth turning up just so. “I should be asking you that.” 

Lance shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I feel fine. Just—you know. I’ve gotten used to the nerves, I guess, but…” He takes a deep breath and exhales as his arm falls back to his side. “It’s still scary.”

Something clenches tightly around Keith’s heart, painfully heavy and ice cold. What can he possibly say to that? What do you say to someone in a war, what words are there to comfort someone who marches into battle after battle with the constant threat of death hanging over their head? Of course he’s scared. Keith is, too.

Lance shuffles his feet, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I feel kind of selfish.”

Keith’s brain practically shorts out. “What? No, of course you’re not—Lance, you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met.” Lance looks up at that, eyes widening slightly in surprise as Keith trails his hands further up his shoulders, closer to his neck. “It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared, too.”

A strange expression passes over Lance’s face, eyes flicking back and forth over Keith’s. He seems to hesitate for a moment, and then: “Scared of what?” he asks softly. No disbelief, no accusation. A genuine question that Keith is almost afraid to answer.

His eyes fall to the floor, overwhelmed by the force of Lance’s gaze on him despite how utterly gentle it is. “I just hate watching you leave,” he mumbles. It’s the closest thing to the full truth that he can bring himself to say. He’s forced to look up when Lance doesn’t respond after a tense moment of silence, still staring at Keith as if he’s got a million things to say but not enough time to say them, like he can hear every single one of Keith’s unspoken worries running through his mind. 

“I don’t like leaving you either,” he admits finally, and Keith’s heart leaps in his chest at the confession, skin burning where Lance lifts a hand to rest over his wrist. “But I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Keith has to bite down on his lower lip to keep it from quivering. “I’d worry less if you didn’t have to go at all.” 

Lance’s mouth curls up into a small, lopsided smile, eyes softening. “Look at the bright side,” he starts, voice going quiet in the way it does when he’s disclosing something honest, something important. His gaze settles on Keith and Keith feels it so deeply, finds himself unable to look away no matter how vulnerable and exposed and _seen_ he feels. “At least I’ve got something here worth fighting for.” 

Keith can’t misinterpret that, no matter how hard he tries. 

People always say that heartache is a side effect of tragedy, that to experience it you must go through something awful or catastrophic. But that doesn’t explain why Keith’s heart aches right now, so much he’s afraid it’ll burst in his chest, fill up the cavity that’s leftover and spill right out of his mouth. Because Lance is looking at him in a way that no one has ever looked at him before—not like royalty, not like a prince, not like the one and only heir to the throne that he never wanted—Lance is looking at him like the sun, like all the planets in its orbit, like the one and only person in the universe.

And Keith has never been more in love with him.

It’s as if some invisible force takes over his body, and Lance is its center of gravity. He steps forward without remembering telling himself to, and Lance’s brow furrows in concern even as he lifts his other hand toward Keith’s waist to steady him, ready to catch him at any moment. But Keith doesn’t fall; no, he fell a long time ago. Up until this moment he’s been suspended in a freefall, and now he’s hurtling toward the ground with no safety net.

They’re toe-to-toe at this point, so close that Keith can hardly breathe. Lance smells of earth and sunflowers, a result of how much time he spends tending to the horses and walking them through the meadows beyond the castle grounds. The freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose would trail all the way down to his shoulders if he were to remove his armor, a sign of sunshine and warmth and everything that makes Lance who he is. Keith holds his breath, counts as many of them as he can before it all becomes too much.

Lance’s gaze is questioning, silently asking Keith what he’s thinking without pressuring him to answer. 

Keith’s answer is this: he tips forward, inch by inch, tilts his head minutely to the side and watches as Lance’s eyes widen slightly and flick down toward Keith’s parted lips, but he doesn’t pull away. So Keith kisses him.

For a moment they are unmoving, lips pressed hesitantly against each other like they know that after this, there’s no going back. Keith thinks he can live with that. And so does Lance, judging by the way that he slides one arm around Keith’s shoulders and the other around to the small of his back, tugging him gently closer, tilting his jaw to deepen the kiss. Keith’s own arms find themselves wound fully around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair and gripping at the roots, heart skyrocketing out of his chest and into the tallest tower of the castle, never to be seen again.

He feels electricity at every point of contact, the ends of his nerves sparking and catching fire until it shoots through his entire body, to the ends of his fingers and his toes. Lance’s hand cups the back of his neck and Keith eagerly follows his movements, breath hitching each time he pulls away for air only for Lance to chase him. They can’t get close enough, chests pressed flush together and leaning into each other until Keith is afraid he’ll literally, physically melt. He wishes he could tear Lance’s armor off, feel the warmth of his body and every beat of his heart against his own.

Lance is so effortlessly gentle in a way that Keith could never be, even as their hands fumble and their noses bump with their urgency, like they’re trying to make up for all the time they’ve lost. It’s desperate and overwhelming and full of unspoken intention, speaks volumes to their utter devotion to each other. Everything they’ve ever wanted to say to one another, summed up in a single action.

Keith breaks apart suddenly with a gasp, clutching the collar of Lance’s armor. “Please come back to me,” he breathes, and is answered by Lance crashing back into him, both hands cradling his face, pushing forward until he’s easing Keith back against the wall. Keith leans heavily against it, dragging Lance down with him and pushing his fingers back into his hair. Lance presses one, two, three kisses against Keith’s lips, the corner of his mouth, the space underneath his eye before coming back again, and it’s all Keith can do to hold onto him and keep himself upright. 

Eventually their movements begin to slow, each kiss growing softer, more careful. Indulging. Keith hangs on to every kiss until the very last moment, catching Lance’s lower lip between his teeth and reveling in the sound Lance makes in the back of his throat. They follow each other until all that’s left is a slow, lingering kiss, one that Keith never wants to end. 

But it does, and Keith is unable to suppress the sigh that passes through his mouth as Lance presses their foreheads together. They both have to take a moment to catch their breath, eyes still shut, basking in the closeness and panting into each other’s space. Keith shivers slightly at Lance’s touch, fingers trailing up to rest under his ear, thumb swiping over his cheekbone. 

“Does this mean I can use ‘Your Highness’ as a pet name now?” 

Keith is helpless to the smile that crosses his face, pulling away only to drop his forehead onto Lance’s shoulder with a breathless laugh. “Unbelievable.”

“Seriously, that could make things interesting,” Lance continues, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself. “You’d never know if I’m simply respecting your title as a knight or just flirting with you.” 

“Flirting,” Keith protests, laughter bubbling in his chest as he lifts his head and Lance snorts. _“Always_ flirting.” 

They both dissolve into chuckles, still the only thing holding each other upright against the wall. It’s enough to keep Keith distracted for just a little while longer, keep him from remembering the conversation that all of this stemmed from. It’s the last thing Keith wants to think about, but he has to—Lance doesn’t let him forget, his smile faltering slightly once their laughter fades, eyes drifting across Keith’s face for a moment before meeting his gaze once again.

He gently brushes a piece of hair away from Keith’s cheek and tucks it behind his ear. “I’ll come back to you,” he murmurs. “I can’t promise that, but—I just know.” 

Keith forces himself not to look away, refuses to let his fear take this moment away from him. He nods, finding Lance’s other hand and intertwining the fingers, bringing them up to lay against his heart. “And I’ll wait for you.” 

Lance smiles again, and when he leans forward Keith meets him in the middle, one last slow, soft press of their lips together before they part. 

Watching Lance leave this time is just as hard as it’s always been. That will never change, Keith thinks, and maybe he should’ve figured that part out sooner. But the difference is great in that he shares it with another person, and a burden is always lighter when there is more than one to carry it. Even miles and miles apart from each other, they have each other’s backs. 

And that’s enough to give Keith hope, no matter how long he has to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.thespacenico.tumblr.com)!  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/thespacenico/)!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/thespacenico)!  
> 


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